On the Rocks
by boswifedeb
Summary: Drowning your sorrows at the bar can turn deadly – especially if your last name is Houston. When Will's fiancée suddenly leaves, he's thrown into the middle of a murder and arson case. But when cousin Matt gets drawn into the investigation things get even more complicated and tempers flare. **Immediately follows "Tribute"** Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

"**On the Rocks"**

****Immediately follows "Tribute"****

"_**When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains,  
>however improbable, must be the truth."<br>Sir Arthur Conan Doyle: Sherlock Holmes - The Sign of the Four**_

**CHAPTER 1**

_Big Bear City, California_

Looking down into the tumbler the same question kept running through his mind. _Why?_ He took another sip of the whiskey sour before reaching down and pulling out the half slice of orange and nibbling on it as he looked out across the lake. Big Bear was feeling the effects of the drought of the last few years but not as bad as some of the lakes in the state. The view outside the window where he sat would be spectacular to most people. The tall pines, miles of shoreline, and the boats that dotted the lake as sunset approached had been captured in innumerable photographs. It was the picture-perfect place and he had thought so, too...until she told him that is was over and left, pulling out of the driveway with her car's trunk weighted down with more than just the luggage and boxes that she had packed. It carried his dreams as well.

He took another sip and then a longer one. How could life be so great for some people and so damnably mean to others? When he had first gotten back from "over there" as he referred to it, he had been hospitalized for a while, then went to counseling sessions, and then finally began to put his life back together. The first time she left him he had come unglued and tried to commit suicide by jumping off a skyscraper in LA. With intervention from his family, she had come back and coaxed him off of the ledge just in time. He had sought help again and after completing the treatment had eased back into life. Two weeks after his release he had traveled to Big Bear with his dad and immediately fell in love with the area. The water, the wildlife, and the woods had seemingly welcomed him as had she; they got back together and for a few years life had been good. He had learned about the area and knew all the best places to fish and where to hunt, and had opened a guide service. Then the economy had taken a nose-dive and business had dropped off and they had worried about it together. Just in the nick of time a phone call from his dad and a temporary job offer that would leave him in a much wealthier situation had saved them. The phone calls home when he was traveling around the country had been a lifeline for him. They had talked of marriage when he got back and then over the last few months things had started to change.

Two-thirds of the drink was gone now, his third one in two hours. The bartender knew him and he could tell that the man was keeping an eye on him, wondering just what had brought him there that night. Funny the things that you could know without seeing, like the fact that someone was watching you. He knew the minute that Vic had turned his attention to someone else who now sat down at the far end of the bar. The two began talking seriously, their voices lowered in a conspiratorial conversation. They needn't have worried about him overhearing them – his mind was elsewhere. Just like her – she was elsewhere and he wondered again just where she was. Another long swallow and the drink was gone. The conversation that Vic was having was throwing him off of his game. Ordinarily he was ready to serve up another drink as soon as the glass hit the bar; this time it took him a couple of minutes to notice that the glass was empty and make his way to the end of the bar. "That gonna be it?"

"Nope – I'll have another." He slid the glass over and the bartender moved down a ways and began making the new drink. Old Kentucky whiskey, simple syrup, fresh lemon juice, and some egg white went into the container with ice and was shaken, then poured on top of fresh ice and garnished with a half slice of orange and a maraschino cherry. Vic brought it to him placing it on top of a fresh napkin. "You okay? You're usually here for a few beers or a couple of shots and then you're gone."

"Yep. Just thirsty I guess." He gave the bartender a smile and picked up the fresh drink and took a sip before turning on the stool to look out at the darkening lake. Pinpoints of light could be seen from the far side of the water as Vic went back to his conversation at the other end of the bar. It was a slow night; normally the bar was full of the chatter of at least thirty or more customers at a time. Tonight there was just himself, a couple who seemed more interested in making out in a corner booth, and the man that was involved in the conversation with the bartender. There were no waitresses present that night, something that had just now slipped into his mind.

_Why?_ There it was again. He had thought that by the third or fourth drink that three letter word wouldn't be hounding him still, but there it was. What was it that Sherlock Holmes had said? "_When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." _Alright – he knew it wasn't money. He had been very careful with the huge payday from the security installation jobs and there was plenty left. Infidelity, at least on his part, hadn't been a contributing factor. She was the only woman he had been with since his return to the states – except for the girl in Florida that had drugged him, and they hadn't actually hooked up. What was left? Another long sip didn't get him any further. Maybe the answer was in the bottom of the tumbler? He downed the rest of the sweet, sour, and silky mix, the alcohol hitting him squarely in a rush. Maybe that would do the trick and he could go back home and sleep for an entire night, for the first time since she had left over a month ago.

Home. He had loved the cabin the moment he laid eyes on it. It was nestled in the trees off of the end of Pine Oak Lane on the northern side of the western end of the lake. They had made it home together but the moment she left it was just another building. Looking down at the empty tumbler he shook his head. Four drinks hadn't been the magic number. Maybe five? A wave to Vic at the other end of the bar drew him away from his conversation. "Sure you want another?"

"Yep." He watched the process once again and when the fresh drink was presented to him the hope rose in him again. _Maybe this will be the one that does it._ Taking a sip, his ears noted that the conversation between the barman and the other man seemed to have gotten more serious; the angry expressions from both of them along with animated gestures led him to believe that it was far from a friendly talk. Looking at the man he couldn't place him, didn't know if he'd ever seen him before. But apparently there was a lot that he didn't know...like _why._

Somewhere in the time after that fifth drink there had been more whiskey sours consumed and the bartender cut him off. He had put some bills on the bar to pay his tab and slowly made his way out to the truck, knowing even as drunk as he was that he had no business driving. Just getting the door open had been a challenge and the fact that he had entered the passenger side made it perfectly clear that he would be spending the night right where he was. Reaching behind the seat he found a jacket and covered himself, stretching out across the seat as much as possible, the thought coming to him that the bed of the truck would have actually been less cramped. It was, he thought to himself before he drifted off, a bed after all.

Sometime later he had been awakened from his alcohol-induced slumber by a noise. Carefully raising himself up he peered over the dashboard and it took a minute for him to remember exactly where he was. A man walked out of the now-darkened bar, lit a cigarette and took a few puffs, tossing it down on the sidewalk before leaving in a car. _Not me – I'm still too damn drunk._ Just as his head touched the seat once again there was a loud noise, the ground shook, and a bright light lit up the interior of the truck. Unsteadily rising back up once again, Will Houston saw that the bar had gone up in flames as another explosion shook him again. At least this time the question in his head wasn't why, but had been replaced by another: _What the hell?_

_The Santa Monica Mountains_

Matt Houston awoke to the phone ringing at 4:22AM. Answering as quickly as possible to keep the noise from waking the week old twin boys down the hall, he tried to keep his eyes open. "Houston."

"Mattlock, I hate to bother you so early..." The voice of Roy Houston came over the phone line and Matt immediately came awake.

"What's wrong?" Without a doubt, the elder Houston wouldn't call at that hour without a damn good reason.

"Will's in jail. Would you go with me to get him out?" Roy was sitting on the side of his own bed fumbling with socks.

"Uh, yeah..." Because of his work with the Fire Marshal's Office, Houston had taken to laying out his clothes before he went to bed and now began donning them as CJ rolled up onto her right side, wondering what had happened. "Is he okay?"

"I think so, but from what I could get out of the phone call he was drunk."

"Oh, boy. Okay, I'll pick you up ASAP. See ya." Hanging up he zipped up duty boots and fastened the velcro closure on them before picking up a ball cap and retrieving his Glock from the bedside table. "Will got arrested – Uncle Roy wants me to go help him out."

"What in the world did he do?" CJ sat up cross-legged in the bed.

"Not sure – think he was drunk." He leaned forward and kissed her. "Call you as soon as I can. Love you."

"Love you, Cowboy. Be careful." She watched as he grabbed a jacket from the closet and started through the house toward the patio and his truck. After hearing the kitchen door close and the beep of the alarm as it was reset, she lay back down. In just a minute she could hear the faint sound of the crew cab truck rolling down the driveway. Closing her eyes she rolled over and snuggled into her husband's pillow. Within seconds a cry from the nursery brought her out of the bed and by the time she reached the bedroom door another of her sons was fussing hungrily. Sheila met her in the hallway and they went in to take care of the boys.

As he drove Matt thought about his cousin. They had been close as kids. The usual result of one of their "adventures" as they liked to refer to them was that both ended up being punished by Bill, Roy, or Will's mother Flo; as often as not all three adults would lower the boom on the two boys. When they were grown and in the Army both had been thrilled to eventually be assigned to the same unit. They had celebrated the reunion but it was short-lived: within two months they were the victims of an ambush. Matt was critically wounded and Will had been taken prisoner. It had taken him years to find out that his cousin was still alive and to free him from his captors in Afghanistan.

Since his return to US soil, Will had been fighting the demons of war: depression, PTSD, and something that Matt had struggled with as well: survivor's guilt. Although he had received counseling and was far better than he had been, Roy's son hadn't been the same. He often kept to himself preferring to skip family gatherings for the most part. While Roy hadn't pushed him too hard, Matt felt that he should at least make an attempt to join the others. Since the death of his dad, the PI had felt the need to draw his family members closer, but Will didn't share the sentiment. After Roy's heart attack almost a year earlier, Matt thought that nearly losing his dad would get through to his cousin. He had been by his side at the hospital but when they returned to California after finishing a series of security installations for a chain of jewelry stores, Will had gone right back to his reclusive lifestyle. He made a living as a fishing and hunting guide around Big Bear Lake and Baldwin Lake in the San Bernardino Mountains northeast of Los Angeles.

Roy was waiting for him on the front porch of his home and quickly slid into the passenger seat of the truck. "Sorry to roust you out of the bed so early."

"Not a problem. The boys usually have us up by 4:30 anyway. I swear they eat more than Catey did." He yawned. "Mind if we stop for some coffee?"

"Not at all." The elder Houston stayed quiet as his nephew detoured into a nearby Burger Nerd and ordered not only coffee but several sausage biscuits.

Matt pulled into a parking space and opened up two of the biscuits to add mustard before pulling back out onto the road and getting on the 101 headed east. As he got settled into the early morning traffic, the PI picked up one of the biscuits and began eating. "You okay?"

"Yeah..." The older man took a bite. "I just..." He shook his head.

"Uncle Roy, just because he got a little drunk and got arrested doesn't mean that there is something wrong. I mean...well, hell – we all do stupid stuff sometimes. It isn't the end of the world."

"When was the last time you talked to him?"

"I tried to call him after the boys were born but I got his voice mail."

"He never called you back, did he?"

"No, but I just figured he was busy."

"He hasn't been busy in a while. The economy has slowed down his guide business. He still has clients but not nearly as many as in the last few years."

Nodding, Matt thought back to the security installation jobs that his cousin had worked on alongside Roy and Vince all over the country. He had made about $250,000. _Surely he hasn't blown through all that dough? _

The remainder of the drive was quiet and when they parked outside of the San Bernardino County Sheriff's Office it was just after 6:00AM. Once inside they were told to wait until an officer was available to speak with them. By 7:00AM Roy was beginning to lose his patience but just as the shifts changed, an officer walked over to them. "Mr. Houston?" Both men answered. "Uh, Roy Houston?"

"That would be me." He stood up as did Matt.

"Sir, I'm Sergeant Roberto Cuevas." They shook hands. "Mr. Houston, your son may have witnessed a crime earlier today. We've been trying to get him to talk but..." He looked around. "Is he under any kind of psychiatric care?"

"Not now." Roy saw the look and explained the situation with Will having been captured and held as a prisoner of war.

"That makes sense given some of the things he's said."

"Could we talk to him?" Matt knew how fragile his cousin had been when he had first returned to the US but thought that the worst of it had been behind him.

"I would appreciate it." He turned and led them down a hallway. "He isn't violent or anything like that...he seems really depressed. But he's been rambling some."

"When I received the phone call earlier I thought he had been arrested."

"Not exactly. From what I could get out of him he got drunk at the bar and decided to sleep it off in his truck. In my book that's a hell of a lot better than driving. The deputy that found him was going to arrest him for public drunkenness, but when the firemen told me that there was a body inside of the bar I heard your son talking about someone lighting a cigarette and then he heard an explosion. I took custody of him."

"I appreciate that."

"Well, the deputy meant well, but he's pretty green." Cuevas gave a small smile.

"Eager beaver, huh?" Matt nodded.

"It takes a while." Looking over at the PI as they walked along he shook his head. "Why do I get the impression that I know you?"

"Don't know." Houston didn't remember ever meeting the man before.

Once they reached the interrogation room where Will was being held both of the Houstons went to him. "Son..." Roy reached down and lightly shook him awake.

"Dad...what're you doing here?" Will rubbed his eyes and then saw his cousin. "Matt..."

"How's it going, Cuz?" The two hugged.

"Hey, I meant to call you back the other day. Congratulations." There was a twinge of guilt; Will didn't know why he hadn't called his cousin back exactly. Maybe it was because he and CJ were so happy in their life together and now with their four kids it just made his own loneliness seem more significant. "Got a picture of them?"

"I wouldn't be a good dad if I didn't." He handed over his phone as Roy had a seat next to his son.

"They look great." Handing back the phone he turned his attention to his dad. "Sorry you got called. I...did I call you?"

"Yep."

"Sorry...I kind of, uh...well, I was drinking last night."

"So I heard. I also heard that you might have seen something that might help out Sergeant Cuevas. Can you tell us about it?"

"Yeah." Will rubbed his eyes again and then rubbed the stubble on his face as he looked up at Matt who was leaning against the wall of the tiny room. "Remember how the sky would light up when we had incoming rounds?"

"Uh huh."

"Kinda looked like that." He sighed.

"How about some coffee?" The sergeant was still standing by the door.

"That would be great."

"Can I offer you two some?"

Roy nodded and Matt followed Cuevas to the door. "I'll never turn down coffee." Giving his cousin a wink he followed the cop out of the room. "Sergeant, I'm not trying to step on anyone's toes, but I work with the Fire Marshal's Office and LAPD some. Would you mind if I kind of took a look at what you've got?" They had reached the coffee pot and Cuevas stopped in mid-pour.

"I knew I knew you from somewhere." Nodding, he handed a cup to the PI. "I saw your interview on television the other night."

"Glad that's where you know me from; I've been trying to figure out if I'd ever met you." He gave a chuckle.

"I'd be glad for the help. We're stretched pretty thin around here what with the economic situation in the county. One of the Fire Department's Prevention Specialists is handling it but in my opinion another set of eyes can be real helpful." He handed a second cup to Matt and poured two more. "So you're a deputy down in Texas, right?"

"I'm a Detective-Sergeant with Harris County." They began the trip back to the room.

"Welcome aboard then, Mr. Houston."

"Most folks just call me Houston."

"Fair enough. I'm Roberto." Once inside the room, the cop handed a cup across to Will as Matt handed one to his uncle. "Mind if I call you Will?" Cuevas had a seat.

"That's fine." He took a sip of the coffee.

"So tell us about last night." Matt leaned back up against the wall. "Do you remember when you got to the bar?"

"Yeah, I remember everything." The former POW took another sip. "I got there about 5:30 and started ordering whiskey sours. It was real quiet. There are usually quite a few folks in there but there was only a couple in one of the booths and me. Until the other guy walked in."

"Is he the one that you saw light the cigarette?" Cuevas had been taking notes and now picked up his cup.

"Yeah. I don't know him. He was probably close to fifty, about five-eight, maybe one-eighty. Had graying hair with some brown in it."

"Do you remember what he was wearing?" Matt watched closely. Other than looking like he might have a hangover, his cousin seemed okay to him.

"Uh, I know he had on a tan jacket. Don't remember what else."

Cuevas nodded as he continued to write. "What was he driving?"

"A sedan...maybe a Chevy – something like an Impala. It was dark – maybe black or blue."

"Any chance you saw the tag?"

Will shook his head.

"So you were at the bar drinking whiskey sours..." The PI began moving around the small room. "Then the guy came in. What made you notice him?"

"He was distracting Vic, the bartender. Usually he's right there as soon as your glass is empty. But he and the guy were talking. After he made my third, or maybe it was the fifth...don't remember - anyway, he went back down to the other end of the bar where the guy was sitting and they started talking again, but then it got a little more intense – like they were arguing about something. I couldn't hear what they were saying but I could tell it wasn't real pleasant."

"Then what?" Matt watched his cousin closely.

"The next time I emptied my glass I had to wave Vic over. First time that's ever happened. After a few more drinks Vic cut me off, so I paid my tab and went out to the parking lot. I knew I was too drunk to drive and I just stretched out across the seat and went to sleep. Haven't been sleeping a lot lately." He took another sip. "I don't know what time it was but something woke me up and I looked out the windshield and there was the guy lighting a cigarette. He got in his car and left and then BOOM! The bar was on fire and then there was another explosion. Shook the truck. Remember how the ground used to shake, Matt?"

"Yep, I do. Did you see anything else?"

"No, I pulled out my phone and called 911."

"Have you called Holly?" Matt stopped mid-sip when he saw the look that came on his cousin's face.

"She left...about a month ago." His hands started shaking.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." Houston looked at Roy who seemed surprised as well. Will hadn't mentioned her leaving to him when they had last spoken about three weeks earlier.

"Not your fault."

"Do you remember anything else?" Cuevas watched the man sitting across from him as he shook his head no. "Alright. Excuse us for just a minute, please." Motioning Matt out of the room they walked down the hall a few steps. "Guess we know now why he got drunk."

"And why he hasn't been sleeping much." Matt rubbed the back of his neck. When Holly had left the first time Will had been suicidal, something that he now told Cuevas. "I doubt we're going to get much else out of him right now. Think it would be okay to send him home with his dad?"

"I've got the address. Maybe he can catch a nap and..." He shrugged. "My brother Armando died in Iraq. Guess that was better than being captured."

"I've often wondered." Together they walked back to the room and he placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder. "How about I give you a lift back to your truck and y'all go to the cabin? I'll meet you there later."

"Sounds like a good idea, Mattlock." Roy and Will stood to leave.

"Thanks for your help, Will. I may have to talk to you again." Cuevas held out his hand and the two shook.

"Sure." He followed Roy outside and the other two followed.

Getting behind the wheel of his truck, Matt looked back at his cousin. "How ya feelin'?"

"Like we've been through this before." All three remembered what had happened about a year earlier in Florida when Will had been drugged by a woman and then framed for her murder. "You'd think I'd know by now."

"At least they don't think you killed anybody this time."


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Matt followed Cuevas, arriving at the bar a few minutes later. "Wow..." The building was hardly more than a shell. "The guy sure did a number on it." The three got out of the truck. "Think y'all will be okay?"

"We'll be fine." Roy patted on his son's shoulder.

"Feel like driving?" Will handed the keys to his dad who nodded. Houston and Cuevas watched as they drove away.

Turning back to his truck, the PI reached in and grabbed the boots that he usually wore when working a fire scene that was as messy as the one that he was faced with now and donned a pair of nitrile gloves. Grabbing his camera out of the console he followed the sergeant under the crime scene tape and could see as a man in a fire department uniform was looking through the wreckage of the building. As they neared the front Matt stopped and squatted down next to the sidewalk, looking at a blackened spot that was connected to a black line going through what had been the doorway of the bar. Quickly snapping a picture he leaned closer and sniffed the area. _Sulfur. _

"Cuevas? What's up?" The man inside the building approached the area that had been the front windows of the bar.

"I've got somebody here who volunteered to help us out, Eli."

"Volunteered?" The forty-something man watched as Matt stood back up. Doubtful bright blue eyes sized up the man's six-three frame. "Who volunteers to help with something like this?" His first thought was that the man in front of him might have something to do with the setting of the fire.

"Name's Matt Houston." The PI removed his sunglasses putting them in the pocket of his shirt and stuck out his hand.

"Houston? Isn't that the guy that you hauled outta here earlier?"

"His cousin. Mr. Houston here works with the Fire Marshal and PD in Los Angeles." The detective understood why his friend was somewhat skeptical. "Remember the interview on TV the other night that we talked about?"

"I do...but I'm going to need to see some ID." He watched carefully as the PI removed his wallet and flipped it to show ID's from both the LAPD and the Fire Marshal's Office. "Son of gun." He stepped forward and shook Matt's hand. "Eli Gorecki. Sorry, I ..."

"I would be wondering, too." The PI nodded. "So it looks like he used a trailer of black powder from the outside here."

"Oh yeah – this guy is just _real_ original." It was said sarcastically. "The old cigarette in the matchbook fuse."

"Will said he saw the guy light a cigarette before the building blew. Mind if I come in?"

"No, just...well you know the deal – look before you step."

"Kinda like walking through the pasture at home." He snickered as did the other two men as they carefully stepped inside. "Looks like there won't be much work needed to demolish this place. He sure likes trailers." Matt looked at the hardwood floor where lines could be seen fanning out in various directions. Gorecki didn't respond but watched with curiosity. "So the initial explosion that Will saw was from the black powder trailers..." He walked on through the bar. "Given the nature of the business I'm gonna guess the secondary was from the alcohol behind the bar." He walked behind what was left of it and saw where fuel had been applied upwards towards the shelves that held the liquor. Kneeling down he gently nudged a scrap of semi-burnt material. "Bar rags?" Looking up at Gorecki he received a nod. Looking over a few more feet he could see the outline of where a body had lain. "And this is where the victim was. Do we know who?"

"We haven't confirmed it yet but we think it's the bartender – Victor Wayne Stafford. He's also the owner."

Houston studied the outline after taking a couple of steps closer. "Judging from the amount of blood and the location I'm going to go out on a limb here and say he was stabbed once in the neck and once in the heart and landed face down."

"That's what Lisanne said – Coroner's Assistant."

"So it sounds like a professional hit. Kinda hard to cover up something like that with a fire – no matter how good of an arsonist you are. Unless maybe destroying the bar wasn't an attempt at a cover-up...maybe it was part of the job in general." He stood back upright.

"How long have you been doing this?" Gorecki watched as the younger man continued to look around.

"The fire part or the investigating in general?" Houston gave him a grin.

"All of the above."

"Uncle Sam began my investigative training back in 2001. The fire part started about a year and a half ago."

"Uh huh..." The fireman shook his head. "Young whipper-snappers these days." All three cracked up. "You're caught up with me now. I was about to work my way around to the back."

"Lead on." Houston followed along the man's footsteps checking all around him as he went. They entered what had been the stockroom, the remnants of shattered and blackened glass all over the floor along with the remains of burnt boxes that had been used to store the liquor. "More trailers. This guy must have had the powder in his car. No way he sat at the bar with it on him."

"It took a pretty good bit." Gorecki marked various areas where it was obvious from the inverted V-shapes on what remained of the walls that accelerant had been splashed and from the depth of char on the wood it had burned hotly.

Leaning closer the PI sniffed. "So like out front he used the alcohol that was available."

"Uh huh. Classic for an arsonist."

"Cuts down on what you have to carry in to do the job." Matt looked toward the office. "Looks like the safe is still intact." They went that way and upon entering the room, all three noticed that it looked like it had been tossed before the fire started.

"Must have been looking for something. Common sense tells you that the money is in the safe, though." Gorecki pulled fingerprinting gear from his case and set about taking prints off of the safe. "Guess we won't be able to get a look inside here until we get it back to the lab."

"Mind if I give it a try?" Houston received a skeptical look from the investigator.

"Go ahead." Gorecki gave Cuevas a smirk as the younger man squatted down in front of the device and began looking it over. Leaning forward he began spinning the tumbler carefully while the deputy and fire investigator began chuckling. "Not exactly like it is in the movies, hey?"

"Nope..." Continuing carefully, Houston took another thirty seconds and then reached for the handle and turned it – the safe opening with a soft click causing the two men to fall silent.

"How in the hell?" Gorecki looked at the cop who shrugged his shoulders.

"Uncle Sam taught me all kinds of neat tricks..." The PI stood back up grinning. "But this isn't a very good safe either."

"Like I said: young whipper-snappers..." The fireman couldn't believe his eyes. "Alright – what's in there?"

Matt knelt back down and after taking a picture of the interior, began removing the contents and handing them to the two men. "Hang on – I've got a file box in the car." Cuevas went back out of the remnants of the building and returned a moment later with a cardboard box. The contents were carefully placed inside one by one, the majority of what was removed being file folders and some cash.

"Uh huh..." Matt reached into his shirt pocket and removed a pen, reaching into the safe and edging something toward the front. "Looks like an old Ruger .22 auto..." Turning to let the light hit the side of the weapon he shook his head. "The serial number's been filed off. Just as a guess I'd say it was manufactured in the late '50's or early '60's." He handed the pistol to Cuevas who looked it over before ejecting the magazine and popping it into an evidence bag.

They continued to look around the office for a few minutes but didn't find anything else that caught their attention. As they walked back outside Matt stripped off the gloves as his phone rang. "Yeah, Babe?" He turned away from the other two and walked toward his truck, replacing the camera in the console and putting the boots away as he talked.

"Are you about done here?" Cuevas looked back at the bar.

"Almost. Need to get some residue samples." The fire investigator sealed the box of evidence and gathered what he needed for his samples from his case. Nodding in Houston's direction he spoke quietly. "That guy is good. So you say his cousin was the drunk guy?"

"Yeah. He and his girlfriend split up and he decided to drown his sorrows."

"Not to cast doubts on him..." He cocked his head at Matt who was laughing at the phone call. "But what do you know about the cousin?"

Cuevas shook his head. "He's clean, Eli. Spent some time as a POW in Afghanistan and is still having some problems from that. Met his dad – they seem like good people."

"Alright. Can't help but be suspicious in this line of work. You told me that guy's name was Houston and I thought you'd lost your mind."

"No more so than usual. I'm going to run a check on Stafford and look into the business. Deputy Tasse is checking out his home." Houston walked back over to the pair. "Was that the boss?" Cuevas watched as the younger man smiled and nodded. "I heard your cousin congratulate you - new baby?"

"Two..." Matt removed the phone from his pocket and proudly pulled up a picture of his children: Tomás was seated on the floor of the den with Catey in his lap and one of the twins in each arm. "Twin boys."

"Wow...congratulations. Is the teenager yours, too?"

"Yep, that's Tomás. CJ and I adopted him a few months ago. And that's our daughter Catey Rose there. She'll be two in the spring."

"Two..." Gorecki did the math in his head as a smile spread across the PI's face. "Boy, you don't waste any time, do you?"

"Not anymore." Chuckling, Matt replaced the phone and then got serious. "I'm going to go check up on Will and his dad and if it's okay I'd like to poke around a little bit more on this deal."

"Fine by me – just let me know what you get. Here..." The deputy handed over one of his business cards as did Gorecki and Matt pulled out two of his own and exchanged with them.

"Talk to you later." He turned and went to the truck, waving as he pulled out onto Highway 38 and headed west toward Will's home. It was only a three mile trip and the fact that his cousin had thought better than to drive drunk even that short distance was a relief to him.

Turning right onto Pine Oak, he followed it to the end and there a couple of hundred yards off the road was his cousin's cabin. Roy was sitting out on the front porch. "How'd it go?"

"Whoever the guy is, he's most likely been doing it a while." He sank down into a rocker next to Roy. "They haven't positively identified him yet, but they think the victim was the bartender. He was also the owner." Pointing back over his shoulder at the house he continued. "How's he doing?"

"I talked him into trying to get some sleep." The worry crept back onto his face. "I asked him about Holly but he wouldn't say anything – just shook his head."

Matt nodded and looked out across the wooded lot. "He, uh..." Stopping he thought how to best phrase the question. "You said his business was down some." Roy nodded. "Is he having any money problems?"

"No, I don't think so. Will's pretty good with money, Matt." He knew that if his son needed any financial support that his cousin was more than willing to give it.

"I don't think he would fool around on her."

"No..."

"Do you think she...?"

A voice came through the screen door before its owner did. "No, she didn't fool around on me, Matt." Will stepped out on the porch and leaned against one of the posts looking out across the trees before turning his sights on his cousin.

"I just...I'm sorry."

"I don't know why she left. God knows I asked enough times while she was packing." He braced his arms on the porch rail and leaned back looking up at the ceiling fan overhead. No one spoke; Matt wasn't sure what to say and Roy was almost scared to say anything for causing his son even more pain. After a minute Will blew out a breath and shook his head. "Did you find out anything?"

"Yes and no: it looks to be a professional job." He went on and repeated what he had told Roy. "Cuevas and Gorecki didn't seem to mind my wanting to poke around a little, though."

"You don't have to do that." Will watched his cousin's face.

"I know...I just want to make sure that you don't get dragged into this any more than you already have been, Cuz."

"You don't need to protect me." The tone became angry.

"I realize that – I'm just..."

"You're meddling."

"Will!" Roy stood up.

Matt kept his voice calm and quiet. "If it doesn't have anything to do with you then I'm not meddling in your business."

"Nobody asked you to come up here and ride in on your white horse and save me." He approached Matt, his fists clenched at his side as anger flashed in his eyes.

"_I_ asked him to come up here and help _me_, son." Roy stepped between the two, noting that his nephew continued to look relaxed. "He didn't have to be here – he's only here because he loves you."

The two younger men continued to stare at each other and slowly Will began to calm down. "Sorry."

"Not a problem." Matt got up and walked down the steps, removing a laptop from the cab of the truck and then returned to the rocking chair. "What do you know about the bartender?" He opened up the computer and waited for it to power up, looking up to his cousin.

"Nice enough guy, I guess. I went in there maybe a couple or so times a month until...well, after Holly left."

"Ever see him around town with anyone?"

"No, the only time I ever saw him was there." He watched as his cousin's fingers began clicking the keys and looked to his dad who nodded and sat back down in the rocker.

Matt concentrated on the screen in front of him. According to the records at the DMV, Victor Wayne Stafford had been sixty one years old, stood about five-eleven, and weighed one hundred seventy pounds. His address was listed as being on Tiger Lilly Lane and the PI pulled up a map and found it just north of the airport on the eastern end of the lake. He began searching through more records and found that Stafford had been married twice: the first time in 1971 at the age of eighteen to Anne Marie Nolen and the second in 1976 to Sherry Jean Archer. The first marriage had ended in divorce in 1975 shortly after he returned from a four year hitch in the Navy. His second wife had died in their home when it caught fire around New Years of 1987. "Hmmm..." He began looking for information on her death and found an article that had run in the _San Bernardino County Sun_. Apparently a heavy snowfall had disrupted the electrical service and the Staffords had built a fire in the fireplace of their living room and slept in front of it. Around 3:00AM he had woken to thick smoke in the home and after unsuccessfully searching for her, had been forced outside. Firefighters had found her body directly in front of the fire place and the incident had been ruled an accident. He paused and thought it over. _If both of them had been sleeping in front of the fire and she was found there by firemen, why didn't Stafford find her?_ Something didn't feel right. Pulling out his phone he called Michael Hoyt. "Hey...are you in the middle of something?"

"Not anything I wouldn't be glad to get away from...unless you're looking for someone to change diapers." The lieutenant chuckled as he sat back in his chair.

"Nope, I'm not at home. Can I get you to run a records check on somebody?"

"Why? I know damn well you can do it." He smirked and then pulled the keyboard in front of him. "Who is it?" Matt rattled off the name and birth date for him. "He doesn't have any convictions but he was investigated by Border Patrol back in March of '86 and then again in July on suspicion of smuggling drugs into the country near Nogales. Nothing else before or since." He leaned back. "So how did you get wind of him?"

"Uh..." Matt didn't want to say in front of his cousin. "Yeah, that's interesting. Thanks – I'll holler at you later." He hung up.

Hoyt looked at the receiver in his hand. Something was definitely up. Shrugging, he went back to the paperwork in front of him with a grimace.

"So what did he say?" Uncle Roy watched as Matt went back to searching on the computer.

"That Stafford had been under investigation twice by BP for possible smuggling."

"BP?" Will looked between the two.

"Border Patrol." Roy watched as his nephew looked through his phone and made another call. "Hey..." He smiled as Homeland Security Agent Chris Oakley answered. "Yep – about a week ago...Thanks...How're things on that end?...Well, good. Glad to hear it...Well, I could use a little information if you're where you can give it." He gave the agent Stafford's name and information and within a couple of minutes the information was waiting in his email. "I appreciate it, bud. Thanks." Hanging up he opened the email.

"I've got a question, Cuz." Will had a seat on the railing of the porch. "Is there anybody you don't know?"

"Uh huh...I don't know who the guy was that started the fire." He stuck his tongue out at his cousin and began reading through the information. "Okay, it says here that back on March 23, 1986, Stafford's vehicle was snagged for inspection on the way back from Mexico after one of the canine units alerted on it. The car was given a more thorough inspection but nothing was found and he denied any involvement in the drug trade. Another canine hit on another car that he was driving on July 9 of the same year, this time as he was heading down to Mexico. The dog alerted to cash being in the firewall area. Again, nothing was found and he was released." The PI thought it over. "When we opened the safe in the office there was still a good bit of money in it and something else: a .22 auto pistol with the serial number filed off. Now... "He stood and put the computer in the seat as he straightened up and popped his back. "That's not to say that he was necessarily doing something illegal. But the arson job kind of feels like a hit." Walking to the end of the porch he jumped up and grabbed hold of a beam, swinging for a minute and causing his back to pop once again. With a sigh of relief, he came back down to the porch. "And then there's his second wife's death." Relating what he had found out to the other two he watched his uncle's expression.

The former CIA agent nodded. "It does tend to make him look shady. But we do know that he didn't start the fire at the bar."

"True. But one fire might be related to the other." Returning to the rocker Matt picked the computer back up and began working the keyboard again, this time looking for information on Stafford's business and then after that, his two wives.

Back at the San Bernardino Sheriff's Department, Roberto Cuevas was beginning to sift through the files that Eli Gorecki had handed off to him. They had agreed to a joint investigation and the detective's curiosity had him eager to see what he could find.

The top folder was labeled "INVENTORY" and showed the purchases that the bar had made since the first of the year. Next was a file labeled "LABOR". In it were the time sheets for each of the employees other than Stafford. The more recent entries indicated that in the last few months he had let go of three waitresses and a bartender. According to the file there were only two waitresses still employed by the bar. Cuevas stopped and took a sip of coffee, thinking back to what Will Houston had said earlier that morning about Stafford being the only employee there the previous night. He moved on.

Next in the stack was a folder labeled "LOAN". The barman had taken out a loan almost two years earlier from a local bank in the amount of $18,000. The maturity date on the papers was listed as November 21st.

The next folder in the file looked considerably older; the corners and spine were worn and it had a yellowed look to it. Roberto opened it up and found newspaper clippings from January of 1987 about a house fire. Reading through it, he was surprised that it was about the death of Stafford's wife. The accounts in the articles although slightly different seemed to indicate that there had been some suspicion of arson at the time but charges were not pursued. A picture accompanying the article showed a distraught Stafford wrapped in a blanket sitting on the side of a fire truck talking to officers. _How unusual is it for a person to be the victim of arson twice?_ He made a mental note to talk to Gorecki about that.

The folder on the bottom of the stack was also yellowed and worn and the contents got his attention quickly. What looked like black and white surveillance photos showed a face that most lawmen in the southwestern US and Mexico were familiar with: Jose Patrino Podilla, kingpin of one of the longest-running drug cartels in Mexico. He set down the coffee cup and carefully looked through the rest of the photos but didn't recognize anyone else in them.

Picking up the radio on his desk, he called for Deputy Jody Tasse. After a few seconds there was no response and he called again. "Dispatch, I need Deputy Tasse's 20, please."

A few seconds later the voice on the radio responded. "Her last reported location was at 1433 Tiger Lilly Lane...GPS also shows her vehicle there."

"10-4." Cuevas stood and replaced the files into the evidence bag that he and Gorecki had transferred them to and sealed it back up, putting them into the top drawer of his desk and locking it before going out to his vehicle. Vic Stafford's house was only about four miles away. Some of the deputies had complained of radio problems recently and although he was somewhat worried about the lack of response from Tasse, he chalked it up to communications issues. In a few minutes he was pulling up behind the patrol car in front of the house, a small red cottage that looked like it would fit in somewhere in Switzerland. He pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves and made his way up to the front door and went inside. "Jody, you in here?" He walked through the small living room and into the kitchen without hearing a sound. "Jody?" A slight sound and the feel of movement behind him caused him to turn and something came down with a resounding thud to the back of his head.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

"Cuevas? Come on..." The detective felt someone helping him to his feet as the smell of smoke filled his nostrils and he began coughing as he staggered out of the house. In a minute he was in the front seat of his SUV and an older man was on his radio calling for help. _I know this guy...I think._ As he tried to clear his head he looked up to see someone coming back out of the house carrying another deputy. _Tasse._ Floundering to his feet he went forward, the older man trying to support him.

"Tasse..." He knelt down beside the young woman whose eyes were wide open. Looking down he saw a large gash across her throat and her blood-soaked shirt. "Tasse?"

"Easy, Roberto. Sit down." He looked up at the man, knowing that they had met but unable to remember exactly who he was. The sound of sirens drew closer, the noise crashing through his aching head like a freight train. When he opened his eyes again he saw the concerned look on the man's face.

"You're Houston."

"Yeah. Do you know what happened?" Matt held a bandana to the back of his head. "Looks like you got smacked on the head."

"Yeah...I was looking for Jody."

"Deputy Tasse?" The PI looked over at the lifeless body next to them.

"She's gone, isn't she?" The answer was a grave nod. A wave of nausea washed over him as firemen scrambled past them running hoses into the house to douse the flames. "God..." Tears came to his eyes as he looked at her again. "She's...the daughter of my training officer. I promised him I'd look out for her." He tried to get to his feet.

"Nope – you're gonna stay put and let these folks take a look at you, okay?" The paramedics had just arrived and began evaluating him.

"Houston?"

Matt turned as Eli Gorecki hustled over to the group. "What in the hell happened?"

"Don't know. We were on our way to get some pancakes." The PI gestured to the south. "We could see smoke coming from this direction and I knew that Stafford's house was over this way. When we got here there was heavy smoke coming from inside and I saw the two vehicles." He motioned toward the SUV and patrol car. "I went in and found Cuevas on the floor in the kitchen and then spotted Deputy Tasse in the hallway."

"Oh, man..." Gorecki turned his attention to the young deputy. "Jesus."

"I think Roberto's chimes got rung pretty good. He's got a pretty good cut on the back of his head."

"And nobody else was in there?"

"Not that I saw. I got him out and then went back for her."

Both men looked as Cuevas began loudly protesting the fact that he was being put on a gurney. "Roberto, you go on and get checked out, you hear?" Gorecki took the detective's hand. "We've got this."

"She's dead, Eli."

"I know...now we've got to make sure you're okay. I'll catch up with you as soon as I can." He watched as the man was rolled to the ambulance. Turning back to the PI he followed his gaze to the house. The smoke was thinning. "Guess I better get ready to go in." He turned back to his SUV.

"Mind if I tag along again?"

"I'd appreciate the help." Both men went to their vehicles and donned their gear. As he started in behind Gorecki, Houston handed his cell phone to Roy before putting his mask and helmet in place.

"So he really goes into fires..." Will was leaning against his cousin's truck.

"Yep." Roy watched as his nephew headed in with clipboard and camera in hand. "He's almost done with his classes – only got one more to go. He'll be taking it after the first of the year."

"He put it off because of the twins?"

"Uh huh." They watched as the firemen began exiting the house and eventually the only ones left were a couple of deputies, two coroner's assistants, and beyond the crime scene tape a group of reporters. A little while later both Matt and Eli came out of the house and removed their tanks, moving over to their vehicles and putting away their gear. "So what did you find?" Roy walked to the back of the truck where Matt had dropped the tailgate and was downloading pictures from his camera onto the laptop.

"It started in the dryer. Looks like a can of deodorant body spray was tossed into the dryer that was set on high heat. It blew the machine apart and set sheets, towels, clothes, pretty much everything on fire in the laundry room."

"You're kidding." Will looked at his cousin incredulously.

"No, he isn't." Gorecki joined the group and was entering the information into his own laptop. Stepping away from the group slightly, the PI answered his phone that Roy had just handed back over. The fire investigator shook his head. "He's good. Think he would move up here and join the FD?"

"I doubt it – he's got too many jobs as it is." Roy grinned.

After filling CJ in on what had happened since they had last talked earlier in the day he walked toward the front of the truck and leaned on the hood. "Do you think y'all would be okay if I stayed up here tonight?"

"Oh, I don't know..." She smiled on the other end of the line. "We might miss our diaper pit crew chief." Both laughed. "We'll be fine, hon. Paul is going to be here for the weekend so we'll have an extra set of hands if we need them. I think we'll be just fine. Can you boys stay out of trouble?"

"I'm starting to doubt it."

"Just be careful. It sounds like there's a real whacko on the loose up there."

"Yes ma'am. I'll call you later. Love you, Babe."

"You too, Cowboy. 'Bye."

"Have you done any research on Stafford?" The PI walked back to the back of the truck and had a seat on the tailgate as he spoke to the investigator.

"Not yet. You?"

"Uh huh. Did you know his second wife died in a house fire?"

"You're kidding."

"Nope." He went on to tell about the questioning by the Border Patrol.

"I don't know if Roberto got a chance to go through the files yet either." Closing his laptop, Gorecki picked up the evidence that was bagged up. "I'm going to drop this stuff at the lab and then go check on him. I'll call you. Thanks again for the help." The two shook hands and the Houstons loaded up and headed south to the Pancake Haven, sliding into a booth at the back of the restaurant.

"I told CJ that I would most likely be staying up here tonight." Matt looked across at his cousin as the waitress brought their drinks.

"I've got plenty of room." Will took a sip of coffee. "Just think: if I had stayed home last night you would be at home."

"And up to his knees in dirty diapers." The older man gave a chuckle.

After an uneventful lunch, the three went back to Will's cabin where Matt set up shop at the kitchen table and began doing more research into Stafford's life. His first wife, the former Anne Marie Nolen had since remarried twice and was currently divorced from husband number three. The most recent address he found for her was in Vegas where she was working as a dealer for one of the smaller casinos. Digging a little deeper using his connection with Harris County, he found that she had absolutely no criminal record.

Next on his list was to find out more about Stafford's second wife, Sherry Jean Archer. The pair had been married in Vegas when he was twenty three and she just nineteen years old, the union resulting in a daughter, Holly Anne Stafford. The PI froze: _Holly?_ Quickly working the keyboard, his worst fears were confirmed. Will's former fiancée was the daughter of the now-deceased bartender. Quietly, he stood and looked out into the living room finding that Will was stretched out on the couch asleep on his belly, his right hand having slid off onto the floor. Roy was reading a magazine and looked up when he noticed movement in the kitchen door as Matt tried to wave him over. He knew from the expression on the younger man's face that something was going on and cautiously walked across the room to join him in the kitchen. Putting a finger to his lips, the younger man showed him what was on the computer screen. The expression on Roy's face went from shock to anger. Sitting down next to his nephew he watched as he began running a criminal background check on her. They already knew of her activities from when she had first met Will: she had defrauded the recently rescued veteran of several thousand dollars. That had been what had put Will out on the ledge of the LA skyscraper in a suicide attempt. Since that time she had remained out of trouble. Very softly Matt spoke. "It could be a coincidence."

"It's still suspicious as hell – and it puts Will back in the crosshairs somewhat." Roy's voice shook with anger. "Matt – you've got to track her down."

"I'm working on it." He went back to the keyboard and began by finding that she had legally changed her name to her mother's maiden surname – Archer. He then found information on her bank account, one that she had kept separately from his cousin and that was in the name of Holly Anne Archer. It was clear that she hadn't taken advantage of him again; the balance clearly reflected money that she had received from her job as a veterinary assistant. Making note of her employer, he continued through the information. "She's still close by, Uncle Roy. Look..." Turning the laptop so that the elder Houston could read the information he saw the surprised look on his face.

"That's...that's just on the southeast side of the lake." He shook his head. "Why?"

"Don't know – but I'm sure as hell going to do my best to find out." Saving his findings onto a flash drive, he closed up the laptop. "I'll call you." With that he left through the backdoor. Reaching the main road, the PI found himself as confused as his uncle. Did Holly know something was about to happen to her father? Had she been involved with his death and the subsequent fire at the bar? And what about the death of Deputy Tasse and the attempted murder of Roberto Cuevas and the resulting fire that had been set to throw them off the case?

Heading east on Highway 38, he turned it over in his mind. Holly's new home and work were not very far from the home of her father or the bar. But they knew that a man had been responsible for the fire at the bar – not a woman. He also knew that there wasn't enough money for her to have hired someone to murder Stafford or to commit the arson. Things just didn't add up. Checking his watch he saw that it was just after 3:00. Most likely she was still at the vet's office on Moonridge Road and he crossed the lake before turning onto Big Bear Boulevard, then left onto Moonridge. It wasn't very far and he wondered if Will had tried to make contact with her on the job. Pulling into the gravel parking lot, he emerged from the truck and went inside the office. Amidst the barking he asked the receptionist if he might be able to speak to Holly for a minute.

"She's out back in the barn with Doc Scarsdale. I think it should be okay."

"Thank you, ma'am." Turning, he went back out the front door and circled around to the large barn located behind the main building, hearing the loud neighing of a horse as he approached. Just inside the barn, the vet was attempting to examine an uncooperative horse and he saw Holly trying to help control the agitated animal. "Looks like you could use a hand there." Holly's head spun quickly and an angry look appeared on her face. He walked over and removed the lead rope from her hands, wrapping it around the bar on the right front side of the panel of the chute and pulling it snug. "How ya doin', Miss Holly?"

"I, uh...I'm fine. How are you?" The quick glance she gave the vet led Matt to believe that her employer was most likely unaware of the recent changes in her life.

"Thanks." Doc Scarsdale, a short man with a nearly bald head, looked up over the rump of the animal and then went about the business of the ultrasound.

"Think we can talk when you get off work?" The PI spoke just above a whisper as he stroked the mare's neck, calming her. "I just need to ask you a few questions."

After considering her options, she finally nodded. As they waited for the test to be completed she finally spoke. "How is he?"

Matt shrugged. "He's had a rough day or so. I'll explain it later."

Scarsdale heaved a sigh of relief when he began rolling away the sonogram equipment twenty minutes later. "Don't know who you are, friend, but thanks for the hand. She seems to like you. Damn shame she doesn't like me – especially since I've been taking care of her since she was born." He gave a chuckle. "I take it you're a friend of Holly's?"

"Yes sir. Name's Matt." They shook hands.

"Nice to meet you. Holly, put her back in stall three, will ya?" He lumbered back up to his office as the woman led the horse toward the back of the barn.

"So he got you to track me down, did he?" She began filling the water bucket in the stall.

"No." Adjusting the ball cap on his head, Matt looked down at the petite brunette. "He doesn't know I'm here."

"Kind of like last time."

"No."

"Then what do you want?"

"I came by to offer my condolences...on the death of your father." Although it might have seemed cold to some, the PI wanted to gauge her reaction to the news.

"My father?" The shock on her face was genuine as were the tears that began to fall. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Houston – but I'm..."

"No game." He watched as she latched the door of the stall, leaning her head against the wooden wall as the tears fell fast and thick. Either she was one hell of an actress or she had no idea about her father. "Look, I'm sorry."

"How...what happened?" As she tried to gather herself, she went toward the back of the barn and he followed along as she went to a sink and began splashing water on her face.

"He was killed in the bar – before someone set it on fire."

"My mom died in a fire." She stopped her efforts and looked at him, the water dripping down her face as more continued to gush from the faucet.

Nodding, he spoke again. "That's how I found out he was your dad. I was checking into her death because of the fire angle. What can you tell me about him?"

"Huh..." She splashed more of the water on her face then turned off the faucet as he handed her several paper towels. "I don't really remember a lot about him. Guess that sounds strange." She sat down on a bale of straw. "But I was five years old when Mama died. I'll never forget that night. It was my first ever sleep over. When the police showed up the next morning..." She sniffled and Houston handed her another paper towel before sitting down next to her. "I didn't know what to do. He sent me to my aunt's house in Stockton that very day with pretty much nothing but what I had taken to the sleep over. I only saw him once after that – right after Will and I moved up here. If I had known he was around I wouldn't have come here."

"So I take it y'all didn't have much of a relationship."

"He was hardly ever home. Mama always said he was "on the road". I told my friends he was a truck driver." She shrugged. "When he was there they were usually arguing; when he was gone and it was just the two of us it was great."

"I'm sorry..." Looking down at his hands he really did feel bad for her.

"So is Will okay?"

"Yeah...he was at the bar last night and got drunk."

"Because of me." She watched as he nodded.

"Your dad cut him off and he went out to the truck to sleep it off. He woke up and looked out – some guy was lighting a cigarette." He told her the rest of what had happened.

"And you're trying to protect him."

"I guess...that's what he accused me of earlier. Along with meddling." Looking over at her he smiled. "Guess it's an occupational hazard."

"He's lucky to have you and Roy." She looked down at her hands.

"Holly..." Houston stopped. It really wasn't his business, but maybe if he could find out why she had left Will he could do something to help. "Has he been having problems again? Is that why you left?"

Tearing up again she nodded. "I just..." She swiped at her eyes again. "After the installation jobs – when he didn't have to worry about money – I thought things were going to be better, you know?" After blowing her nose she continued. "But he gets so moody and if I suggested talking to someone he would just explode. I just couldn't deal with it anymore. I love him, Matt. But..." She shook her head.

"I understand." He stood up. "If I can get him to get some help...would you maybe..."

"I don't know. Maybe." She stood up as he handed her one of his cards, then she gave him her new cell phone number. "But please don't give it to him."

"I won't. But the police may need to ask you some questions."

"That's fine." She tucked the card in her back pocket and looked up at him. "I really do love him."

Nodding, he walked up the hallway and out into the afternoon sunlight.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Matt put the truck into park and cut off the engine, looking out across the playground at Meadow Park. Holly had just confirmed what he had feared about Will having problems and not being willing to get some help with them. The ringing of his phone pulled him from his thoughts. "Houston."

"Hey, it's Eli. Just thought I'd let you know that Roberto is going to be okay. He's got a concussion but should be released tomorrow."

"That's some good news."

"He also said that we need to look at the files from the bar. There are some very interesting things in them."

"Oh?"

"Yep. He gave me the key to his desk. Want to meet me at the station?" Gorecki was sliding into his SUV.

"Yeah, I can do that. Be there in about ten minutes or so." He hung up and pulled back out onto the road and headed east once again, his thoughts returning to Will's personal problems. Maybe if he could get his cousin to talk to him about what was bothering him... He sighed.

Surveying the parking lot outside the station, he didn't see Gorecki's vehicle and dropped the tailgate on the truck to wait for him, his thoughts drifting back to Will and the ambush that had taken him away from his family for so long.

"You okay?"

Matt's head snapped up at the sound of the voice right next to him. "Yeah...fine." He slid off the tailgate and closed it, following the fire investigator up the sidewalk.

"Looked like you were in deep thought."

"Deep something alright." He gave the man a crooked grin as they entered the building and went back toward the detective's office.

"Let's see what he found so interesting." Eli opened up the drawer and removed the files, cutting the seal on the bag and handing part of the stack to the PI. Both men had a seat and started through.

"This meshes with what I found out from my friend at Border Patrol." Matt tapped on the pictures of Jose Patrino Podilla. After relating what Oakley had sent him he leaned back in the chair. "I also talked to Holly."

"Holly? His girlfriend?"

"Yep." Shifting uncomfortably he nodded at the file that contained the clippings from the house fire. "She was the daughter of Stafford and his second wife. I didn't know that until about an hour ago." He had seen the question forming on the man's lips. "She said she didn't really remember much about him; he was gone more than he was home and the way her parents argued it was just as well. She was at a sleepover the night of the fire."

"Why didn't she come forward?"

"She hadn't heard about it." Rubbing the stubble on his chin he continued. "Her reasons for leaving Will didn't have anything to do with her father." The tone of his voice caught Gorecki's attention.

"So..." He understood then why the PI had been so distracted when he pulled into the parking lot. "He didn't know that Stafford was Holly's dad?"

"Didn't have a clue."

"Just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Wow..." He shook his head. "It happens. Okay, so she said her old man stayed gone a lot and we have good reason to suspect he had ties with Podilla. Could be our neighbor from the south had reason to want him dead."

"Could be. Those kinds of folks don't like loose ends." He stood up and popped his back, beginning to pace. "When did Stafford open the bar?"

"Uhhh..." Gorecki looked through the information in front of him. "June of '87...which was about six months after the fire." He leaned back and blew out a breath. "This thing has just gotten more complicated as the day has gone along."

"Yep." Houston continued to pace. "From what I know Podilla hasn't been spotted in the last five years or so. You have to wonder why, if he _is _behind the murder, why now? What changed?"

"Don't have a clue."

The PI paced some more and then stopped. "Maybe we do."

"We do?"

"Where's the file with the loan information?"

"Here..." Gorecki handed it over as Matt sat down again.

"The loan was due and payable on the 21st of November...that's a little more than a month away. Now I've looked at Stafford's financials as well as the bar's. There's no way he could pay it off. Maybe he was trying to squeeze Podilla for some money."

"But what proof did he have of anything?" Watching as Houston picked up the folder with the pictures of Podilla he could almost see the gears clicking in the man's brain.

"The only thing we have in front of us that is directly related to Podilla is this file..." Matt tapped on the pictures. "I need to do some work on these." He spied a scanner nearby and got another detective to put the files on a flash drive for him. "Maybe there's something in these that is valuable in some way. Otherwise..." He shrugged. "I don't know where else to go with it." He stood up. "I'm going back to Will's place. Call you if I get something."

Gorecki watched him leave and then went back to looking through the files. _He's right – the only thing that makes any sense is Podilla._ Shaking his head, he sealed up the bag and headed back to his own office, hoping that the lab might be able to give him something to point to their arsonist – as well as who might be his employer.

Matt pulled into the driveway at the cabin and removed the laptop from the truck. "Something smells good in here." He found father and son in the kitchen working on supper. "Almost smells like Mama's spaghetti sauce – but surely she wouldn't reveal her secret to you, would she?" He gave his uncle a big smile.

"You might be surprised at what she reveals."

"I've known her longer than you – I probably wouldn't be surprised." All three laughed.

"So have you found out anything else?" Will continued to stir the sauce as Matt sat down at the table.

"Maybe." He opened up the computer and popped in the flash drive. "There were some pictures in Stafford's safe...of a Mexican cartel leader."

"What the hell?" He turned to look at the pictures. "Why would he have something like that?"

"We're not sure but it looks like he might have done business with him years ago." Pulling up a photo editing program, the PI began zooming in on Podilla's surroundings. The cartel leader appeared to be relaxed and in conversation with his companions in some of the photos that were taken in the desert.

Roy leaned forward. "Zoom in, Mattlock. Now scroll to the right a little bit...there. That's a Saguaro cactus."

"Son of a … you're right." The PI zoomed back out. "Those are only found in western Arizona and the Sonoran Desert. That cuts down on the possible location." He sat back thoughtfully in the chair, and then leaned back toward the screen and began looking more closely at the background of the pictures. "Wait a minute..." Copying a section of one of the pictures, he pulled up a browser tab and did an image search with the photo that he had just copied. "Well now we have a pretty good idea of where Podilla is – or at least was at the time this picture was taken."

"We do?" Will walked over to join the other two.

"That's Cerro Tepopa..." He tapped on the screen. "This was taken in Sonora." All three men were silent for a minute. "Now what I want to know is _when_ these pictures were taken. And I bet the DEA would like to know, too." With that he got up and walked out onto the back porch, pulling his phone out of his pocket and placing a call to DEA Agent Carl Roper. After being on hold for a couple of minutes, the call was finally answered by the man that he had worked with a couple of times before.

"Houston, what in the world do you want?" Roper laughed.

"Actually, I might have something that _you _want. As a matter of fact I'm certain that you will."

"Uh oh..." Roper sat down at his desk in the Los Angeles Field Office. "You sound awfully serious. What are we talking about here?"

"How about Jose Patrino Podilla?" There was silence on the other end of the line.

"You're kidding."

"Nope; I might have a location on him – might being the key word here."

"How in the hell?" Roper listened as the PI explained what had happened since the early morning hours. "Man, you just have a knack for getting into trouble. Hoyt was right about you. Good Lord."

"I'll send you what I have."

"You have no idea how much we appreciate this."

"Oh, I've got a pretty good idea." The PI chuckled and as he went back inside and emailed the information to the agent the pair caught up on the happenings in each other's lives, the agent in shock over the fact that he and CJ now had four children.

"Wow, you really do know how to get into trouble." He laughed again. "Let me take a look at what you've sent and I'll see if I can find anything on Stafford – or at least anything you don't already have. Thanks again."

Hanging up, the PI sat back down at the computer and thought over what they had. Even knowing where the picture was taken didn't tell him when it was taken or if Podilla was still there, and it didn't solve the murder of Stafford; hopefully it was a step in the right direction. As Will heaped plates full of spaghetti, he closed the laptop and set it aside, deciding to let Roper see what he could find on Podilla and see what Gorecki came up with through the lab and other resources.

While the dinner conversation was light for the most part, Roy sensed that there was more on his nephew's mind than the case that he had stumbled upon and was reasonably sure that the situation that had put Will in the bar on the night in question was eating at him. After a round of rock-paper-scissors to decide who would do the dishes, Roy rolled up his sleeves and started the task as the two younger men took a walk through the woods that separated Pine Oak Lane from Highway 38 and the lake. After crossing the roadway they walked along the shoreline and had a seat on the rocks, neither speaking for a couple of minutes. "So..." Will finally broke the silence. "What's it like having all those babies around?" He looked over at Matt who smiled.

"It's great. Wouldn't trade it for anything."

"Sure about that?"

"Yeah." Matt tossed a rock into the water and watched the ripples. "There's nothing like it."

"The closest I've ever come to that is..." He stopped, thinking about Holly's daughter Cassie. He felt his cousin's eyes on him and immediately got quiet. There was quiet for a couple of minutes. "I saw your interview with Giorgio Stavros." Looking over at Matt he watched as the man nodded and tossed another rock out into the water. "I didn't know about all of that – the Castanos deal and...your problems."

"Yep."

"You never said anything."

"I tried to when..." He stopped, not really wanting to mention his cousin's attempt at suicide a few years back.

"When I was planning the great swan dive." Will gave a humorless chuckle. "Not one of my smarter moves in life. But then not many of them have been."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?" He turned halfway toward Matt. "You know I've thought about it – what the worst decision was that I ever made in my life. It was joining the Army. If that had never happened..." They both got quiet again. "What about you? What was the worst decision you ever made?"

"Huh." Matt chuckled. "There have been plenty. Kinda makes it hard to decide which one was the worst."

"Bull. You've always made good decisions."

"The hell I have..." Cutting his eyes over at his cousin he shook his head. "Putting off my love for CJ, not talking to Daddy for two years, almost marrying a nut job – now _that_ one damn near got me killed."

"But the Army wasn't a bad decision for you."

"In some ways it was. But if I hadn't..." He stopped and looked at the rocks in the palm of his hand, considering his next words as he picked the next stone. "...If I hadn't I wouldn't be able to do what I do now. It was a blessing and a curse." He chucked the stone into the water.

"Come on now – a curse? You've bounced back just fine. Don't understand why I can't." Will hurled a rock into the lake.

"Maybe it just takes a little longer for some folks. Maybe you just haven't found the right way."

"Do you have any idea how many shrinks I've talked to since you brought me back?" He watched as his cousin shook his head. "I don't either – but there've been a lot of 'em."

"You know, I think the worst part for me was the dreams...actually that's the wrong term: nightmares." Matt tossed another stone, watching as it skipped out across the darkening surface.

"Do you still have them?" Will's voice gave him away; Matt knew without looking that was part of what had been plaguing the man.

"Not so much now..." He couldn't tell him about the raid in Afghanistan that he had carried out with a team of Navy SEALs that had eliminated one of the world's top terrorist threats. "Nowadays other things get to me...mostly stuff that involves kids getting hurt. But that was part of what tore me up about being over there – the kids."

Will nodded and swallowed. He had seen the horrors that the war had brought to the thousands of kids in harm's way. And the women. And the innocent people who wanted nothing more than to live their simple lives in peace. Not everyone there was a bad guy and that was part of what made it so tough – not knowing exactly who was an enemy and who wasn't. Thoughts of those times went through his mind again and he closed his eyes, the memories playing like a bad movie. Matt's voice cut into them. "You're seeing it now." He nodded again.

"Why won't it go away? Why did it go away for you but not for me?!" Suddenly he stood and hurled the handful of stones into the water and began throwing larger rocks in, his anger burning hotly as both the splashing of the rocks and his voice echoed across the water toward the dam on the western end of the lake. Matt got to his feet and stood helplessly by and watched, not knowing what to say to him. As quickly as the anger had surfaced it went away and the man sank back down onto the rock where he had been sitting, the quiet resuming once again. "Well, I guess that was stupid."

"No...did it make you feel any better?" He watched as Will shrugged. "When was the last time you tried talking to somebody?"

Blowing out a breath he looked upward at the clouds beginning to move in from the west. "It's been about four months or so. But trying to get in to see somebody..." He went quiet. "There are a lot of folks out there that want to talk to them. I just feel like I'm wasting everybody's time."

"You aren't."

"Who did you talk to? Besides Stavros."

"When I got back I was busy trying to catch Castanos...and believe it or not being focused on him helped. It made me feel useful again." He picked up a few more stones and began skipping them across the water. "But I've talked to a couple of folks since then. And being around the ranch working with the cows and horses seems to help a lot. That's what I do now when things start to get to me." He wanted to add _and talking to CJ_ but considering the circumstances he thought better of it.

"When I got up here at first being out in the woods and on the water seemed to help..." He picked up a couple of stones and examined them. "I don't know – it's like everything I've tried works for a while and then it just happens all over again."

"What if I could get you in to see one of the folks I talked to – would you go...and follow through with it?" Matt watched as his cousin tossed another stone out, brushed the dirt from his hands and stood up.

"I...yeah." Will nodded.

"I'll make a couple of phone calls in the morning – fair enough?"

"Yeah, thanks." Both turned and trudged up the hillside and went back to the cabin.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

After returning to the cabin, Matt grabbed his gear bag out of the truck, sitting down on the floorboard as he called CJ who was about to read Catey her bedtime story. The three laughed and talked for a few minutes as Roy and Will watched from the front porch. "Did you ever think you would see the day?" Will looked over at his dad.

"I knew he would eventually come to his senses." The older man chuckled. "Too bad Bill was already gone when it happened." He didn't add that he would like to have grandchildren of his own someday. Will already knew how he felt about the matter.

A few minutes later Matt joined them on the porch, holding out the phone to his uncle. "Catey wants to talk to you."

"By all means..." The elder Houston took the phone and began walking around the porch as he spoke with his great niece.

"Think I'm gonna go grab a shower. Between my tour of the bar this morning and Stafford's house this afternoon I'm a little on the rank side."

"Help yourself." Will watched as his dad kept talking with the little girl, and his mind drifted back to Holly and Cassie. Although not technically his, he had taken on the role of daddy to her and found that he really missed their conversations.

Roy ended the call and sat down in the rocker next to his son. "I do believe that little lady is going to talk my ear off one day." Looking down at his nephew's phone, he began scrolling through the pictures, all of which were of his family or his horses. "You haven't seen Jasper or Buck have you?"

"No..." He took the phone and looked through. "So this is the stallion he rescued?"

"Yep. One hell of a horse."

"And Buck is the colt?"

"Looks just like his dad." He watched as his son continued to look through the pictures and came across one that Matt had taken of himself and Tomás as they worked on the bunkhouse down in Texas.

"He's really happy now, huh?"

"Uh huh. He and CJ both. They've gone from having practically no family to almost bursting at the seams. But I've got a feeling they're not done yet." He gave a chuckle. A short time later, Matt stepped out onto the porch wearing a pair of trunks and a hoody, and retrieved the phone from his uncle. "We've been looking through your pictures, Mattlock."

"Good thing I don't have any dirty ones on there." The PI gave a laugh and had a seat on the swing. The three sat and talked, Roy telling stories of the old days when he and Bill had been kids. A lull in the conversation was interrupted by the familiar buzzing sound as Matt had drifted off.

"Guess some things never change." Will shook his head as his cousin gave a snort and then began snoring. "Or maybe they do." He laughed.

After rousting the sleeping PI off of the swing and ushering him inside to the couch, Roy went into the guest room to get ready for bed. A loud thump startled him and the sound of a struggle brought him out of the bedroom and into the den where his son and Matt were rolling on the floor, Will punching at the man who until just a moment ago had been peacefully asleep.

"Will! What in the hell are you doing? Get off of him!" Try as he might, he couldn't pull his son off of Matt.

"You lousy son of a bitch!" Most of Will's punches were being blocked but a few managed to get through his cousin's defenses and after a particularly hard punch to the jaw, Matt had had enough; without throwing any punches of his own, the PI worked until he got his cousin pinned down on the rug.

"Are you done now?" Breathing somewhat heavily, he gripped Will's wrists in his hands over his head .

"How could you?!"

"How could I what?"

"You've been talking to Holly, that's what! Don't act all innocent. I found a card with her name and number on it in the bathroom floor." Tears began to flow. "Where is she?"

"If I let you go are you going to calm down?" He continued to hold on as Will began struggling again. "I found her this afternoon." That did the trick; the former POW stilled and nodded. Matt got up and sat down on the couch.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I promised her I wouldn't." He watched as his cousin sat up and swiped at the tears.

"Does she hate me that bad?"

"She doesn't hate you; she loves you." Feeling a trickle from his nose the PI wiped at it and came back with blood on his hand, accepting a paper towel from his uncle who sat down in a nearby chair.

"She's got a funny way of showing it." Wrapping his arms around his legs, Will continued to sit in the floor and glare. "How did you find her?"

"She was at work." Matt dabbed at the bloody nose. "Did you know that Vic Stafford was her dad?"

"Her dad?" He watched as his cousin nodded. "No way."

"Uh huh. I was looking into Stafford's history. His second wife died in a house fire about seven miles from here; she was Holly's mom." The disbelief on Will's face continued. "I can show you if you want."

"No..." Will sat and listened as Matt told him exactly what had happened and how he had talked to her that afternoon. After allowing the information to sink into his brain he looked down at the floor for a few minutes, all three men remaining silent. "Did she tell you why she left?"

"Will..." Houston looked down at his hands and then at his cousin. "I think you already know why...but you don't want to admit it." There was silence again.

"That's why you offered to make the phone calls." He stood and walked to look out the front windows into the dark woods.

"Partly." He watched as the man turned back to face him. "You need to get straightened out for yourself before you can add anybody else to the mix, Will. She wants to help you but she doesn't completely understand what happened over there, what you went through. You need to talk to someone who knows exactly where you're coming from and knows how to help you get to where you need to be – where you want to be. And I hope you realize that this is something that you may need help with from time to time; don't be afraid to ask for it. It isn't fair to expect her to deal with something that she doesn't have a handle on." Waiting for an answer, he half expected his cousin to attack him again, but was relieved when the man nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"I understand." He crossed the room and put a hand on his cousin's shoulder. "You have no idea how many bar fights I got into when I was on my drunk. It's a wonder I didn't get tossed in jail. There were times when it seemed like the only way to get any relief – to get some control back. But promise me something: don't call her until you get squared away, okay?"

"Yeah." The two men embraced and Roy watched quietly, tears filling his eyes. "Good night."

"'Night." Matt watched as he went back to his room and quietly closed the door.

"Thanks." Roy stood and gave him a hug. "You okay?"

"Yeah. You?" He had been worried that the stress might have affected the older man's heart.

"Yeah. Good night." Patting his nephew on the shoulder, Roy turned and went back to the guest room as Matt lay back down on the couch again and tried to go back to sleep.

By 5:30, the PI was up and dressed, sipping coffee on the front porch as he thought over what was going on not only with the Stafford case but Will. All he could do as far as his cousin was concerned was to get him in contact with some help and support him as he went about trying to work through his problems. As far as the case, he decided that he had overlooked a couple of things the day before and wondered if Cuevas or Gorecki had talked to the two waitresses who were still employed by the bar. He planned to call the fire investigator later and see if he had any other news.

Going back into the kitchen, he poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down with the laptop to check into the background of the waitresses. He heard someone turn on the shower as he began his research. Krista Barton was twenty three years old, had worked at the bar for the last two years, and had no criminal record. She had come to California from Florida when she was twenty and lived in an apartment not far from the bar. The other waitress, Tabitha Musgrove was a local, age twenty six and had been employed by Stafford for a little over a year. Other than a couple of speeding tickets she had a clean record as well. Apparently she and Barton were roommates: they shared the same address. "That oughta simplify things."

"Talking to yourself is a sign of old age." Roy poured a cup of coffee as his nephew looked up and chuckled.

"Nice boxers...lemme guess: Mama gave them to you." The older man was wearing a pair of white boxers with red hearts all over them.

"Valentine's gift." He had a seat across from Matt. "What are you working on?"

"We didn't talk to the waitresses – or at least no one did as far as I know. I was running a check on them."

"And they came up clean?"

"Yep." Matt leaned back and drank down more of the coffee. "I really think this deal involves Podilla; nobody else seems to have a motive. Carl sure was glad to get the information on him yesterday."

"Maybe that will make up for you stealing the helicopter." Roy chuckled.

"Borrowed, Uncle Roy." The PI grinned, downing more of the coffee as Will entered the kitchen and stopped in his tracks at the sight of his dad in the boxers.

"Good Lord." He shook his head and poured coffee. "You and Mama just need to go on and get married."

"Not for lack of trying, boy. I'm gonna go hit the shower." Roy padded out of the kitchen with the coffee in hand as the two younger men shook their heads.

"CJ ever give you anything like that?"

"No comment." Matt grinned over the coffee cup. "How ya feelin'?"

"Embarrassed. I'm sorry."

"Don't be – just promise me you'll do what we talked about."

"Promise."

After breakfast, Matt made the phone calls for Will and had an appointment set up for him with one of the doctors before calling Gorecki. "Hey, have you gotten anything back from the lab?"

"Yes and no: some of the fingerprints on the safe and the back door at Stafford's house came back to a ghost." The fire investigator leaned back in his chair as he looked at the report on his desk.

"How come I'm not surprised?"

"Our arsonist at both the bar and the house was one Randal Denton Brett – who according to public records died twenty five years ago. He would be fifty three now."

"So unless Stafford was visited by a spirit Brett is very much alive." He pulled the laptop over and began running the name, bringing Gorecki up to date on his research into the waitresses.

"I had planned to talk to them today. Still will – never know if they know anything about the guy if I don't ask." There was silence on the other end of the line. "You still there?"

"Uh huh – I'm checking out Brett. Looks like he was in the Marines for ten years before he went missing down in Central America. That's convenient given who we think he might be working for these days."

"Where did you find that?" Gorecki had spent nearly an hour trying to find out more about the man.

"Don't ask, don't tell, Eli." The PI chuckled. "He was part of the, ahem "_training" _group sent to Nicaragua. He disappeared in August of '89."

"You found that...never mind. I don't care how you found it." He heard laughter on the other end of the line. "So how did you get the safe open and he didn't?"

"Maybe he flunked Safecracking 101?" The PI couldn't help but grin. "I'm going to call my friend at the DEA again and see if he has anything else for us."

"I'll go interview the waitresses. Talk to you later." Hanging up, he grabbed his jacket and headed out to the apartment that the two women shared on Cherokee Drive.

While he refilled his coffee cup the PI called Carl Roper again. "How's it goin'?"

"You sure know how to cause some excitement. I thought the Bureau Chief was going to need clean underwear yesterday afternoon when I took him the files you sent." Both men laughed. "Needless to say, there are folks working on it as we speak. They agree with you on the general area where the pictures were taken. Good work."

"I get lucky every once in a while. The fire investigator that I'm working with here in Big Bear got a hit off of some prints..." He explained what they had turned up.

"You're kidding me! That's...damn! Number one I can't believe he didn't wear gloves and number two – how did you get into the safe when he couldn't?"

"Guess he wasn't holding his mouth right." He sat back down at the kitchen table as Roy came into the room. "At least now we know who we're looking for – even though he is a ghost."

"Too bad we don't have a picture of him – that would sure help."

"Uh huh. I'm going to see if the Sheriff's Department will help my cousin with a sketch of him. Better than nothing."

"This guy is sloppy."

"Maybe he's been doing it too long."

"You know...if Podilla is the one bankrolling him and he finds out about the prints..."

"Brett will be out of a job and out of lives. I've been thinking the same thing." They talked on a few more minutes and then ended the call, each promising to keep the other in the loop.

Will entered the kitchen just then and Matt told him the idea about a composite sketch and then called the Sheriff's Department, finding out that against doctor's orders, Roberto Cuevas was at his desk. "Guess we can just head on down that way. Are you ready?"

"Yeah." Will followed the other two out to the truck and was quiet as they rode eastward on Highway 38. Matt looked at him in the rear view mirror a couple of times and wondered what was going through his mind, but decided that maybe it wasn't the right time to ask.

The three were given passes and went back to find Cuevas popping a couple of Tylenol as they approached his office. "Don't even say it, Houston – there's no way I'm not working on trying to find the lowlife that killed Tasse."

"I've got some news for you..." After a few colorful exclamations the deputy calmed down slightly.

"So he's the one." Anger was written all over his face.

"Think one of your folks could help Will with a sketch?" Matt leaned against the wall and watched as Cuevas immediately snatched up his phone and within a couple of minutes Will was working with the sketch artist.

"Looks like you got into a tussle." The detective nodded at Matt's face where a couple of small bruises were visible.

"No big deal – just a misunderstanding." He watched his cousin for a minute and then answered his phone. "Hey, Gorecki."

"Both of the girls think they may have seen the guy before."

"We're working on the sketch now."

"I'll bring 'em down there. 'Bye."

Matt told the deputy about the conversation and watched as he nodded. "I talked to Jody's dad last night..." He sat down behind his desk again. "Thought it was going to kill him."

The PI's phone rang again and he excused himself as he went out into the hallway to talk to CJ. Roy sat down in a nearby chair. "Losing a child is the hardest thing in the world."

"You've lost one?"

"Thought I had – but Matt found him and brought him home."

"Tasse won't have that opportunity." Cuevas leaned back in the chair. "I feel like I let him down."

"He knows you didn't. She knew the risk when she took the job."

"Doesn't make it any easier." Both watched as Will and the artist worked together for several more minutes and by the time Gorecki arrived with the waitresses, they were done.

"That's him!" Tabitha Musgrove pointed at the likeness. "Vic called him Randy."

"Yeah, that's Randy. Every time he came in they ended up in an argument." Barton added another bit of information. "The last time he was there I overheard him say something like, "_You better watch it. El Jefe is getting tired of the threats."._

Gorecki, Cuevas, and all three of the Houston men exchanged looks. "We need to get an APB out on this guy. Maybe he hasn't made it back across the border yet." The deputy began putting the alert together.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

Two weeks later, Matt was down at the pen next to the barn. Since Cricket and Jasper usually followed him around wherever he went, Buck had learned to do the same. The cowboy felt sure that the parents' trust in him would help with the colt's training and his willingness to have contact with everyone on the ranch was also a big help. He had a halter ready for the five week old and had walked around for most of the day with it hanging out of his pocket as he went about working around the horses and Buck's curiosity had him sniffing at it. "What do you think about it, Buck? Are you ready for some clothes like your mom and dad?" Holding the halter in his hands, he let the horse sniff at it some more, then began rubbing the halter on his head where it would come in contact with him. The little stallion showed absolutely no fear. "Want to try it on? I think it ought to be a pretty close fit." Slowly and gently he fit it over the horse's muzzle and over his ears, scratching his neck before fastening the buckle on it. "Well, would ya looka there? Kinda makes you look grown up." Leaning up against the fence he watched as the colt at first turned his head from side to side trying to figure out exactly what it was and then rubbed his head on the fence. In a minute he snorted and began prancing around the pen causing Matt to laugh. Jasper nickered to him and sniffed at it, seeming to approve as did Cricket who nuzzled at the colt. In a minute he returned to Matt who began petting on him, carefully moving around to adjust the halter. Buck stood completely still and after being praised some more, moved on off to join his father as Cricket came to get some attention from her owner. "You've got a smart kid there, baby girl."

"How's it going?" Roy had walked down to talk with his nephew and had seen the colt's reaction to the halter.

"Real good. He doesn't seem to mind it at all."

"So what do you think his prospects are?"

Matt climbed up on the fence and had a seat as Jasper and Cricket both flocked to Roy for attention as did Buck. "CJ and I have been talking about that. We don't have a clue about Jasper's bloodline, but he's a fine stallion - good overall conformation for a Quarter Horse. We're thinking Buck there might be a good addition to the Rockin' PH." He smiled at the look on his uncle's face.

"Rockin' PH? Who came up with that?"

"The owner."

"You're kidding."

"Nope; her ranch, her choice." He descended the fence and the pair walked into the barn. "So what's going on with you?"

"I got a call from Roberto Cuevas...are you missing your phone again?" He cut his eyes over at his nephew who had lost track of the number of phones he had lost or destroyed over the years.

"Uhhh..." After patting down his pockets he stood in thought for a minute before walking down the hallway of the barn to the tack room. "Ah hah...two missed calls. That would be Cuevas and you." He popped the phone into his pocket and began restacking some hay bales in one of the stalls.

"Yep. He thought you might like to know that Randal Brett's body was found just outside of Nogales."

"That didn't take too long. Guess _El Jefe_ found out about the wanted poster, huh?"

"Evidently."

"So that's pretty much that I guess."

"Have you heard anything from Carl Roper?"

"Nope. Didn't really expect to unless they got a hard location on Podilla. Maybe it'll head 'em in the right direction anyway." He stopped what he was doing and sat down. "How's Will doing?"

"I don't know. He's been staying with me – had appointments three times a week." Sitting down next to his nephew he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "I..." He shook his head.

"What?"

"I wonder if he'll ever..." Roy searched for the right words. Phrases like "back to normal" or "right" just didn't seem to fit.

"He's got to take it one day at a time, Uncle Roy. Did you invite him for supper like I asked you?"

"Yeah. He said he'd think about it."

Matt nodded. He had tried looking at it from his cousin's point of view. The Houston household was filled with the kids as well as CJ, Sheila, and himself. Roy was often present and on a lot of weekends Paul Novelli stayed with them. Tomás was only home during school holidays. Maybe having so many people around was more than he could take. "You know he hasn't met Tomás yet."

"Nope." Both were quiet. "Matt, I just don't know...I'm worried about him."

"Me, too." Putting a hand on his uncle's shoulder he could feel the worry that the elder Houston was carrying. "But I don't want to crowd him or pressure him."

"Kind of like Buck, huh?" Roy looked at the younger man. "You might spook him if you rushed his training?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah; I guess it's a lot like that. It's all built on trust. The way I'm working with him now will affect him the rest of his life."

"What about working with Will?" Turning to look at his nephew he saw the expression on his face change.

"He doesn't really seem to want to talk to me that much. I..." Matt shrugged. "Honestly, I think deep down he's mad at me."

"Why on earth...?"

"Because he was the one that was taken prisoner – not me. He was the one that had to live in captivity all that time. He's the one having such a hard time getting back into the swing of things. He's the one that Holly left..."

"But that isn't your fault."

"I used to think it was." Matt took off the cowboy hat on his head and fiddled with the sweat band. "That...that was part of the reason why I did what I did when I first got back stateside. I felt guilty – like it should have been me instead of him."

"You had no control over that."

"I finally realized that. The guys that took him were the ones who made that choice. Hell, they thought I was dead and Will did, too." They fell silent again.

"Do you think it will ever end for him?"

"I don't think it ever really ends for anybody. It's always there, you just learn how to think around it, get through it. I just hope he can find his way out."


End file.
